Showbird
by Mickeygee
Summary: Maura is a orphan working for Medda as a singer... but other people want Maura's song for their own show. Story is better than review... No character pairings yet...
1. Chapter 1

Don't own newsies, but I do own all the acts…  except for Maura's song, I got that off the internet… The song is by Lee Ann Womack, and it's called: I Hope You Dance. I know Maura never would have known this song, or anything like it, but I really liked the song, and thought it went ok with the story… anyway, I hope you like it!

Enjoy! (and review!!!, I have never done anything like this before, comments are helpful!)

"Maura! Get out here! We're about to start!" Sam yells through the door as he runs past, on his way to the pit.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I grumble, as I finish tying a corset for Anne, one of the dancers. "There you go, Anne, now you better hurry up, or the show'll start without you!" I say, smiling at the face my friend is making in the mirror. "Go on, or Medda won't pay you tonight."

Anne only sticks her tongue out at her reflection, and with a short "thanks" she runs out the door. Shaking my head, I leave the dressing room and head over to the pit where Sam, my best friend, is running the stage for the big production.

Actually, It's not that big of an operation, as tonight's reserved just for the newsies, but Medda, our boss had basically adopted all the newsies of New York, and decided that tonight she was going to throw the hugest party anyone had ever seen, which of course meant ALL the acts and everything had to be perfect. Which happened to be Sam's job.

"Everyone, places!" Sam calls excitedly as he grins at me. It's obvious he loves this, and wouldn't give it up for anything. "You ready Maura?" he asks, looking me up and down and admiring my costume. My dress is a dark green with a white bodice and long sleves. Personally, I think I look a bit like one of those princesses from all those romance novels, but as Medda picked out the clothes herself, out of her own trunks, as a gift, I can't really complain. My long brown hair is pinned up so that it cascades loosely down my back. Medda had done me up herself earlier, and pronounced herself proud of the result, so I guess it looks ok on me. He grins at me, expecting what's coming next.

"I _guess_." I reply unhappily to Sam's question, but my reluctance is all a show, because we both know I love this sort of thing. I'm a stage bird by nature, and I'm quite good at it too, if I do say so myself. Now, you may be asking yourself, what in the world I'm doing, getting dressed up in weird costumes and then claiming I'm a stage bird.

My name is Maura Scott and for my living, I sing. As a baby, I was left in a booth in Medda's theater. Medda took me in, taught me to sing, and ever since, I've been singing for my keep. You'd be a great singer too, after about 14 years of Medda's teaching.

I sit in the wings next to Sam, watching Anne and her girls dance for the newsies. They're amazing, one of the greatest acts ever to come to Medda's theatre, and they know it too. They consider themselves a bit higher than the rest of us actors and singers, but we live with it, because in truth, they ARE a bit higher in the whole scheme of things. But just because we live with it doesn't mean the rest of us don't make fun of it every now and then. As I watch Pauline, another of Anne's girls, make goo-goo eyes at some of the Queens newsies, I laugh and try to imitate the look to Sam, who is obviously trying very hard not to laugh.

Sam is like my brother. He's two years older than me, but he has short dark hair to my long brown. He, like me, was abandoned at Medda's, but two years before me, making him the natural choice to show me the ropes. We've been best friends ever since we met and some call us inseparable. Which, to be honest, is probably true.

Sam checks his watch, gauging how many minutes before he has to alert the second act that it's their turn to perform. I turn back to the stage, watching the girls go into their finale. As I've seen this act a million times, however, my eyes slide into the audience. All my friends of the Manhattan newsies are there, eyes on the performance. Except for Racetrack, though, his eyes are glued to his cards and the sitting in the center of a table filled with a bunch of Newsies I don't know who were all holding cards. Jack Kelly, and the rest of his gang are spread out through the theatre entertaining themselves as only newsies can. Continuing my scan of the room I spot a few Brooklyn newsies I know as well. Their leader, Spot Conlon is sitting near the front with a girl on either side. I laugh quietly to myself, remembering when Sam had told me about the King of Brooklyn's reputation. He was a good guy though, despite the tough front he attempted to put on, if you got to know him. My view of the rest of the audience was obstructed when Anne and her girls rushed off the stage to loud applause from the all the newsies in the audience. Then, Swipe, a fast-handed magician hurried on, knocking me the other way. Grabbing the ropes behind me to keep myself from falling on stage, I tried to regain my breath. A hand reached into my vision, offering a hand.

"You know if you pull that rope too much harder, You'll knock Swipe out with the curtain falling on his hand in the middle of his act. Then he'll be in an even worse mood than he is already, and we don't want that, now do we?" Sam grinned at my embarrassment at almost ruining the show, and helped me to stand up again. "Got your song and everything ready?" He asked again, this time in a formal voice, warning me that I was not to mess with him like last time. Last time I had convinced him I had forgot every word of my song, all my cues ect. Needless to say, he was not happy. I just winked at him and started singing the words softly.

"I hope you never lose your sense of wonder…" I sing softly, smirking at him. Sam's glare relaxes and he smiles at me again. "You're on in two, I think your friend Racetrack is about ready to blow open Swipe's whole trick. Let's get him out quickly, huh?" Nodding at him, I prepared myself to go out. In a minute, after Swipe had picked up his stuff and marched off the stage, Sam was again behind me, pushing my back gently so I wouldn't hesitate and ruin his whole production. I walked swiftly to the front of the stage and stood for a minute looking at my feet as I relaxed myself, as I always did, right before I began to sing. _Into the bottle you go, my dear._ I heard Medda's advice from long ago, and placed myself in that self same bottle, where there was only me, the lyrics to my song, and the small band playing in front of me. I looked up as they started the intro, smiling at my old friends.

"**I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,**

**You get your fill to eat, but always keep that hunger.**

**May you never take one single breath for granted**

**God forbid love ever leave you empty handed.." **

I had song this song so many times, I felt myself coming out of my little glass bottle and actually singing to my audience.

**I hope you still feel small when you stand by the ocean,**

**Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens**

**Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,**

**And when you get the choice, to sit it out or dance**…

**I hope you dance.**

**I hope you dance.**

I saw some of the newsies sit up and listen to the song now. It looked like they were enjoying it, but I wasn't quite sure. I glanced at Sam in the wings, but he only smiled encouragingly and motioned for me to continue. That was no help.

**I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance**

**Never settle for the path of least resistance**

**Living might mean taking chances**

**But they're worth making.**

**Don't let some hell-bent heart leave you bitter. **

**When you come close to selling out, Reconsider.**

**Give the heavens above, more than just a passing glance..**

**And when you get the choice, to sit it out or dance…**

Here I winked at Joe, the guitar player, and he sang the second part of the song with me. (**A.N. Joe's part is in parentheses… ******

**I hope you dance**

**(Time is a real and constant motion always)**

**I hope you dance**

**(Rolling us along) **

**I hope you dance**

**(Tell me who)**

**I hope you dance**

**(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder,)**

**I hope you dance**

**( where those years have gone)**

**I hope you still feel small when you stand by the ocean,**

**Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens**

**Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance,'**

**And when you get the choice, to sit it out or dance…**

Here was the ending… come on girl, don't blow it!

**Dance**

**I hope you dance**

**I hope you dance**

**(Time is a real and constant motion, always)**

**I hope you dance**

**(Rolling us along)**

**I hope you dance**

**(Tell me who)**

**(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)**

**I hope you dance**

**(where those years have gone)**

I closed my eyes, as I always did at this part of the song, trying to remember my parents. Nope nada. Ah well, perhaps next time…

**(Tell me who)  
I hope you dance  
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)  
(Where those years have gone)**

As the last notes from my song hit the rooftops, the room was silent. To be honest, (I might have been bluffing to you a bit before about my experience on stage…), never before had I performed for my newsie friends. They had never heard me sing, as I usually performed while most of them were still out hawking papers. Only Jack Kelly had ever heard my act before, so it was his face I sought out as I slowly opened one eye, braced for a look of disgust. Jack only winked at me, giving me about as much help as Sam had. Blushing I opened my other eye and looked around at the assembled newsboys, who still had not said a word. I glanced at a grinning Sam, pleading with my eyes to get off as soon as possible, but before he could beckon me off the stage, a loud roar of approval rang from the audience. Smiling now, I gave a deep curtsy like Medda had taught me, and waving, I walked off the stage, sighing with relief as I left the public eye.

"That" I announced to Sam as the next act went on, "Was the most stressful ordeal I have ever gone through. Period."

"Well, you did pretty well for a girl…" Sam teased me and for that, he got a punch in the shoulder. "Hey," He said, catching my arm as I shoved past him to take off my stage makeup, "Medda told me that you earned a break for the night. Go see your friends, and hang out for a while." Nodding with glee (I never get breaks) I turned away to leave, but once again, Sam held me back for a moment. "And Maura? Nice job out there. Really nice job." Blushing at the praise, and still filled with adrenaline from my success, I practically bounced into the dressing room, where I washed off most of my makeup, and let down my hair. It was time for some fun.

**AN: I hope you liked it!! ******** sorry, first time ever fanfict, but that doesn't mean I deserve sympathy… unless you feel like giving it… ;) hahaha**

**Please review and tell me what I'm doing wrong… I wanna make this a good one, but I dunno if im doing it right… constructive criticism is accepted, but please, don't flame me!! (I appreciate it.)**

**Thanks, and Happy New Year!**

**Mickeygee**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Hey guys, sorry, I'm not good at the New York accent, and I really don't want to maul it for you, so it's going to be written out of accent… Just a heads up, if you were wondering why the heck they talk so differently… :D I don't own newsies, or anything you recognize … Enjoy!!**

"Nice work, boys…" The two "newsies" (more thug-like in their nature, I have discovered since I have hired them) standing in front of me, Oscar and Morris Delancy, visibly stiffened as a large plume of black cigar smoke drifted into their faces as I exhaled, smiling grimly. They were nervous… good. I tend to have that effect on most people. Actually, that was the whole reason I smoked this type of cigars, to make a lasting impression on my underlings. And let me tell you, it worked. "I guess this trip wasn't so bad after all." Morris smirked, but the remark seemed to go right over Oscar's head. I turned my head to see where he was looking, but it was only at a group of boys playing poker.

I glanced up at the stage, watching the next act, which consisted of some wisecracking kid trying to add comedy to the performance. Personally, I believed my act was much better, but that's usually how business goes, thinking your things are better than everybody else's. It's a fact of life I've come to live with. But I say only usually because this time, I had found a jewel in this mud-pit saloon in Manhattan. A young girl, who looked younger than 16 even, had just wowed a bunch of rowdy newspaper boys into silence using only her voice. Even most professionals these days couldn't do that.

It was then that I decided. Yes, she was going to work for me. Knowing these street orphans, she'd probably jump at the chance to better herself. Personally delighted with my decision, I called the Delancy's attention back to myself. It was time to put my recruiting plan into action. "Oh, boys…"

(Maura's POV)

"Nice job Maura!"

"I didn't know you could sing!"

"Come over here and sing me another, won't you Maura?"

I laughed as I turned to face my questioner. Tall, blond, and broad-shouldered, my newsie friend swept me up in a hug. "Spike!" I cried happily, "Did'ja see my show, did'ja like it? When did you come? How'd you get here anyway? Are you staying long? Will you come see Sam? He missed you. Holy cow, you got tall!" I sped out in one gasp, before taking a deep breath. "Oh Spike it's so good to see you again!!!" Spike blushed under my onslaught of questions, but smiled none the less.

"It's good to see you again too, Maurice" He teased, as he released me. I glared at him, but couldn't stop laughing at the old joke. When we first met, he could never remember my name, but Maurice was the closest he got to it, so the nickname just kinda stuck. We both looked each other over at arms-length, marveling at how long it had been since we'd seen one another. See, Spike used to work here at Medda's too. He was (and still is, actually) Sam's best friend, and through Sam, a close friend of mine too. We had made up _the Terrible Trio _as Medda had called us, and had all sorts of fun together. Spike, though, grew tired of the theater life, much to Sam and my unhappiness, and joined the Greenpoint newsies, who were quite a distance away from us. Unfortunately, we hardly ever got to see each other anymore, which was why I was so excited to see him.

"Are you staying long, Spike?" I asked after I had satisfied myself that he wasn't beaten into little pieces without me to protect him.

"'Till after the show, at least. Ginge, our leader, decided that he hadn't visited Jack in a while, so we thought we'd drop in. I can't guarantee we'll be here long, but apparently we're staying the night…"

"IS THAT SPIKE?" A female voice cut through the turmoil of the room like a knife. As he recognized the voice, Spike slowly removed his hat and a huge grin began to cover his face. "IT IS!!" A beautiful woman with bright red hair, and a long pink dress and matching fan made her way towards us. This was my employer, Medda. She also happened to be the closest thing to a Mom that Spike, Sam or I ever had in our life. She's pretty good at it too, which is why she was bustling over here to most likely do the same thing I had done… Make sure her boy Spike was still in one piece.

"I'll catch ya later…" I whispered to him as I got out of Medda's way before she and her giant pink dress knocked me over. I shook my head and backed away from the scene, trying hard not to laugh as I watched Spikes face go from pink to red to crimson as the newsies around him began to laugh. Right before I was about to go back to save him, Spike was pulled into a hug from Medda, and the surrounding area was filled with cheers. Apparently Spike's reputation as being one of Medda's favorites had gotten out…

Laughing, I turned around and started walking toward Tony, the 18 year old "bartender" who worked in the back making drinks. Medda didn't like to serve liquor to the newsies, especially when there was more than one place represented, so Tony only served water, juice, and some kind of fizzy thing, which was beginning to be a bit of a hit. "Nice job out there." He said, smiling at me as he made me a glass of my favorite new drink, the mango flavor of the fizz. Handing it to me his smile lessened a tad and he held on to the drink. Motioning with his eyes to lean in, he whispered "watch yourself." I looked into his eyes, confused.

"Why?" I whispered

"Oscar and Morris. They were just looking for ya. Before, they were talking to that man over there. I'm not going to point to him, but look ta your left. When you see a very hoity-toity feller in a suit, look back at me again." Nodding, I scanned the room while pretending to stretch, and spotted the man Tony must have been talking about. It wasn't often you got a guy dressed that fancy in a place like Medda's. Not that we were bad or anything, it's just that his type didn't generally take the time to come down here for entertainment. He was kind of a weird looking man, with a round body and a small, bald head. It seemed like he attempted to cover up the baldness with a large top hat (it didn't work) he also had one of those large black cigars that Racetrack Higgins, one of Jack's friends, always seemed to carry around. I sat back down slowly and winked at Tony.

"I saw him, now what?" I whispered when he came back from serving some newsies.

"I've heard of him before. I don't know why he's here, but him mixed with the Delancy brothers means trouble. Keep your eye out Maura." I winked at Tony, attempting to put on a show of contempt.

"You know me, Tony, when am I ever not careful?" I fluttered my eyes at him but he only glared at me.

"Seriously, Maura. Watch yourself." Dropping my act, I nodded seriously .

"Thanks Tony." Grabbing my mango fizz, I slipped away from the counter back toward the front of the building. I had almost made it too, when someone grabbed my arm. Whirling around, I glared up into the eyes of Oscar and Morris Delancy. _Tony was right._ I was starting to get scared now. "Um… can I help you boys?" I asked, trying to play it cool, but pretty sure I was failing. _This wasn't good. _

"Actually," Morris said with a spooky looking leer on his face, "would you mind stepping just this way? We have a business proposition for ya." Oscar grinned at me, and let me tell you, it wasn't the most beautiful set of sprklies I'd ever seen. Really, it looked like he lost a couple in past street fights or something. Not exactly the type of person you'd want giving you a "business proposition"…

"Um, guys? I, uh, I'm happy with my job here, and um.. Oh wait! Is that Medda I see? Oops, got to go boys, but please, enjoy yourselves-"

"Not so fast, Maura." Morris snapped. "You're coming with us. Right this way please." With that I was pulled backwords towards a small booth situated in the back of the room. Great. _This wasn't good at all._

**A/N Ok, mates, another chappie up for yourselves to enjoy! ;) I hope you like it, but If ya don't mind, I really would appreciate reviews, as I'm a mere newbie to this whole writing business… advice would be great!! Sank you. Hahaha**

**Mickeygee**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to all my many wonderful reviewers!! YOU MADE MY DAY:D**

**Please, Enjoy**

**(Just as a heads up, I own just about nothing you recognize... :) **

I found myself basically being frog-marched between the two Delancy brothers, headed toward the back of the room. As I've admitted to myself already, I'm in big trouble here. While being forcefully marched in the _opposite_ direction from where I really wanted to be going at the moment by the two goons, I hopefully scanned the surrounding newsies, looking for a face I recognized. No one. Drat it all. You'd think out of the gazillion or so newsies surrounding us at least ONE would find it suspicious for the two Delancys to be forcefully marching a girl toward a secluded area... One kid looks at me quickly, but suddenly he's off into the crowd again. _That wasn't much help._ I grumble in my head. But I can't really blame him, he was kind of a small kid, and who REALLY wants to take on the Delancy brothers? Well, I guess Jack Kelly or Spot Conlon, some of the famous newsie leaders could take them, but definately not that little kid. Upon reaching the booth, I was shoved in first, so I was sitting next to the wall so Oscar sat next to me, and Morris sat across from me.

"Um..." I started, interupting the _very _ uncomfortable silence after we'd been sitting there for a few minutes, "are you guys actually going to tell me your "business proposition" or can I just go?" I crossed my fingers, hoping against hope.

"In a bit of a hurry then, are we?" Morris leered at me. Geez, he creeped me out.

"Um, yes?" I said, anything to get me out of this.

"No. Business Proposition first." Darn it.

I sighed, resigned to my fate. "Ok, lay it on me."

Morris messed around with his tattered black bowler hat for another minute while I squirmed before he got to the point. "We know this man, who runs an... entertainment house down the way. Have you ever heard of the Blue Boar?" I shook my head. Where in the world was this going? "Well, the man we are uh, working for at the moment runs the joint. He saw your act tonight, and says that he's delighted to accept you into his est-, hst-, histablish-something. Drat it, forgot what he said. what was the word, Oscar? Something like Stab but I can't really remember the word." Morris looked across the table at his brother, who only shrugged. While Morris puzzled over the strange word, I watched Oscar for the first time. He seemed to be remarkably engaged in watching a group of Newsies who looked to be playing poker at a table across the room. At a closer glance, I realized I recognized most of the boys, and realized they were all Manhattan newsies. If only they'd look this way! One kid on a crutch does turn around, but after about a minute of looking around, he turns right back around again. _That was no help either. _

Realizing that Morris was STILL puzzling over the world, I listened for a minute as he tried all the variations of the mystery word that he could think of. Starting to feel a bit sorry for the guy, despite being kidnapped in my own workplace, I decided to try to help him out.

"Stab... histab... estab..."

"Establishment?" I guessed. Yeah, big word I know, but that's what Sam called _Medda's_ sometime, so I thought I'd give it a try.

"THAT WAS IT!" Cried Morris, slamming his fist on the table and making the silverware left on the table from dinner AND me jump about a foot in the air. "Now, where was I?"

Resisting the urge to bang my head against the wall, I weakly replied "something about joining a establishment.."

"Yes, that's it. Ok, so our employer says you'll be welcome to work at his _establishment_, and that you will definately grow from this new experience, and that if you work with him you'll get noticed by talent-searchers, and he'll definately pay you better then you're being paid right now..." After about a complete list of all Morris's reasons that the "Blue Boar" was the best place in the world to work at, I started to tune Morris out,as he kept going on and on about how this job would somehow better me as I started to think about what he was actually offering. Leave Medda's? Hardly an option to consider. Despite how cleche this might sound, I was practically raised at Medda's, and leaving here would mean leaving my home, Medda, my adopted mother, not working with Sam anymore... not to mention only seeing my Newsie friends HALF as much as I do even now. Yeah, my mind's made up. No matter if I would have earned more money, or have been noticed by talent-searchers (although being noticed wouldn't be SO bad...) I like where I am at the moment, and I don't really feel like changing anything. I glanced at Oscar, who was still staring hard at the table of Newsies. He didn't seem to be listening to his brother either, but every once and a while, I'd see his face grimace like he was in pain, right before his hand would slowly begin to move towards his pocket. I wondered what he had in there, but every time his fingertips brushed the cotton of his pants, It was almost as if he would snap out of a trance, and his had would jerk away from his pocket. But despite multiple grimaces and flinches, Oscar never seemed to break contact with the pack of Newsies... Something was up, I was sure of it. Now only to find out what...

(Crutchy's POV)

I love Meddas. Everytime I come here, I always have a great time, the food's good, and the acts are AMAZING. I really needed something great like this today too, acuz I didn't end up selling all my papes today. I blame the neighborhood, they've all seen me too much with my crutch, (although how else I'd get around, I dunno) so their sympathy has diminished quite a bit... Which stinks, as now I have to find some other spot to start selling, and since the strike, it seems our numbers have multiplied by the billions, and all the decent spots are taken.

Despite this depressing thought, I'm having fun tonight,as I've said before, so we're not going to ruin it with my depressing life. And to tell you the truth, It's really not that depressing, compared to a lot of kids'. Despite my bad leg, I'm completely healthy,and I'm good at my job (which, despite my problems, I love) so I really shouldn't be complaining. So I'm not going to anymore tonight. I look around the room from my seat near the stage. Medda's troupe of performers seem to be taking a break, so a lot of the Newsies are going back to whatever they were doing before the distraction. By distraction, I mean the amazing act pulled by this girl. They didn't ever end up mentioning her name, she just kind of walked on, mezmerized the entire audience, and walked off. I think I heard a few people calling her Molly, but I'm probably totally off. Standing up, I decide to head over to Jack's table. He, and the group of friends I think of as his "boys" are deep into a poker game. Hobbling over, I lean on my crutch and watch. Racetrack Higgins, the gambling King of the Manhattan Newsies is dealing, as Kid Blink, Mush, Boots, Itey and my good friend, Jack Kelly stare at their cards thoughtfully. Jack's best friend since the strike, David , watches but doesn't seem to want to participate. This, to be quite honest, isn't at all strange with Davy (as we like to call him, Spot Conlon, the Brooklyn leader calls him the "walking mouth") who has these really strange ideas about what is right to do with your money, and what isn't.

In the space of time it takes me to watch a game, Racetrack Higgins wins every hand. As far as I know, he's never lost a single game. He's amazing to watch, and for some reason, I get the feeling his cards are stacked, although I know if they were, Jack'd kill him. Either that, or he just has an AMAZING gift, depending on your oppinion of him after you've lost 5 games in a row to him. Let's just say, after knowing him for at least 5 years, I've kind of given up playing cards at all.

Starting to lose interest in a game that doesn't seem to change when Race ALWAYS has all the key cards, I once again look around the room, interested to see what else is going on. Medda's apparently entered the scene from her dressing room, she's embracing this large blonde fellow I don't know. Poor guy. Continuing my sweep of the room, I do a double take. What's going on? Morris and Oscar Delancy look even sneakier than usual. Something's up. Realizing how entirely uneffective an attempt at tailing the two would be, I flick Itey accross the head. Swearing, he looks up at me, annoyed. Moving closer, I whisper "Itey, I need a favor." He looks at me, and from his eyes, I can tell he's seriously considering hitting me. Glancing down at his cards, I realize why. That's one heck of a hand. But that doesn't matter. "The Delancy's are up to something. Will 'ya check 'em out for me?" He's still not budging, so I play my trump card. "You owe me, big. Pay up." I've got him. Cursing under his breath, the slight newsie drops his cards, muttering about "...need... excuse...sorry." and he's off into the crowd. Sighing with relief, I continue watching the poker game. After about two minutes, however, I started to feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. You know how you can get that feeling like someone's staring intently at you? Well, imagine that feeling times ten, and you have the feeling creeping up my spine at the moment. Jerking around, then steadying myself before I fell over, I search the crowd for the person who's staring so hard. Unfortunately, some newsies have started to smoke, causing the room to be slightly murky in the half-gloom of the half-light in the building. Darnit. Can't see 'em. I turn back around, slowly this time, and try to ignore the "glare", but despite my best efforts, it doesn't go away. It does lessen after a minute, however, and luckily a minute later, Itey comes barreling back from his scouting attempt. He comes over to stand next to me, and he's slightly out of breath from having to shove his way through the huge mess of Newsies surrounding us.

"You're right." He gasps after a second, still slightly out of breath. "They've got this girl in the corner booth in the back, and she's caged in, and she REALLY looks like she could do with some rescuing about now. "

I've only got two words. "Get Jack?"

"Already on it." He states, before leaving my side and going to whisper into Jack's ear. I watch as Jack's poker face starts to fall away and shock, then anger are quickly written across his face. His "boys" are already alerted to the change in the atmosphere at the table, and all look to Jack to see what's going on.

"Itey tells me that the Delancy brothers are causing trouble for the girl who sang us that wonderful song earlier. Who wants to help me soak 'em?" Cheers erupt from everyone at the table except for Race, who folds his hand looking slightly depressed. But when he sees where Itey's pointing and see's the predicament the girl's in, he's just as eager as the rest of us to go to her aid. With Jack at the head of the band, we head over to end whatever the Delancy brothers are getting up to. _Serves them right, too._ I think, unhappily. I can't help remembering when they had roughed me up during the Newsie strike before handing me over to the refuge. _They deserve whatever they've got comming to them._

**A/N: How do you guys like it so far? Hopefully this chapter was neither too short, too boring, nor too weird. (all three are highly possible :)**

**Suggestions are NESSESARY, and if anyone has ANY ideas that you'd be interested seeing in the next chapter, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! comments/constructive criticizms are VERY helpful:)**

**Hope you liked it... :D**

**Mickeygee**


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